


Against the Grain

by neverminetohold



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Community: twd_kinkmeme, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers: S03E04 The Killer Within
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was time to leave, the others would only drag him down.  Before Hershel's farm, Daryl would have done it...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to AMC and Robert Kirkman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Grain

The clotted blood had looked black even before the shadows lengthened, but now the darkness had crept in every nook and cranny, turning the prison yard into a place from which every sane person would recoil. Dead walkers lay everywhere.  
  
With a screaming baby on their hands, little face blue and scrunched up with hunger, longing for milk from its mommy's tits, the others couldn't be bothered to clean the mess up.  
  
The dead clung to the fence's wire netting with their claw-like fingers, rattling it, all flaking flesh and white bones; no twenty steps away. Having smelled the fresh blood and heard the sirens, they had been drawn in from all around, stumbling through the forest and up the access road.  
  
If this continued the prison might get overrun, like Hershel's farm had been, but no one kept a cool head, they were all paralyzed. They sat there in their cells, waiting for dead hands to grab them, because the stupid fucks wouldn't listen to Daryl.  
  
He knew it, felt the urge for going, and yet Daryl had gone no farther than Rick, placing his steps carefully, worried that he might set the man off. Rick failed to acknowledge his presence, didn't shout or attack, so Daryl sat down beside him.  
  
Rick's ragged breaths, beyond sobs and grief, mingled with the walker's moans, the tone similar enough to set Daryl's teeth on edge; making him clutch his crossbow tighter.  
  
The last traces of red-orange evening light vanished beyond the horizon, until every structure faded to the blurry gray of night. Cold seeped through his clothes, but the stairs were narrow enough that Daryl could feel the warmth of the body beside him.  
  
He wondered what he was doing here.  
  
Daryl didn't blame Rick for finally snapping, not after Lori dying in childbirth, leaving Carl to put a bullet into his mom's brain and the group losing T-Dog, with Carol presumed dead. But he wasn't a guy for sitting around when he could act, and yet now Daryl's here, doing nothing.  
  
As if simply being there could somehow fix this mess that dragged Rick under; who was staring ahead without seeing anything and wouldn't ever move from that spot most like.  
  
A waste of time.  
  
Right.  
  
Daryl wondered when he had started lying to himself 'bout the things that kept him going in this crapsack world. If this was weakness, this reluctance to cut his losses and leave a good man behind, then so be it.  
  
Carol had wanted 'a man of honor' and now he was curious if she would have been proud or disgusted. He could almost hear Merle's laugh but yesterdays accusations were not too bitter to swallow.  
  
Daryl kept to his silent vigil all night, watching the parade of rotten faces beyond the fence, no longer smelling the stench and ignoring their animal sounds. Glenn and Maggie came out of Block C once, but he sent them away with a warning glance.  
  
Not yet.  
  
After hours of shared immobility it made Daryl flinch when Rick took a sudden, deep breath.  
  
Rick rubbed his bloodshot eyes, “I don't know what to do.”  
  
Daryl knew he ain't stupid, but he sure as hell hadn't got the profound answers Rick was looking for, and he wasn't feeling very philosophical after such a shitty night.  
  
“Get up off your butt. Stay put and die. That's your choice.”  
  
Rick barked a laugh, “You've got a way with words.”  
  
Daryl shrugged, “Can't change a man's mind once it's made up.”  
  
Rick wasn't Carol. There were no Cherokee roses blooming anywhere, no symbols and no right words, and with Lori gone Rick would seek safety in distance anyway. - What Rick needed was a kick in the ass, 'cause if the group's survival couldn't motivate him, nothing would.  
  
Rick didn't answer and Daryl knew it wasn't enough.  
  
“They look to you to keep them alive,” Daryl said.  
  
He spotted Maggie in the enclosed walkway, pacing and shooting them nervous looks while shushing the baby cradled in her arms. Rick saw her, too.  
  
“I don't -”  
  
“I've got your back. We figure it out.”  
  
Rick pushed himself up, “Let's go then.”  
  
Rick's steps were forced, as if gravity was pulling him down the closer he came to his infant daughter, but he went and took her from Maggie. He handled the whining bundle with the ease of familiarity, a father who knew how it's done.  
  
Would have made a beautiful scene, except for the red stains on the baby blanket.  
  
Daryl still expected Rick to snap, and for good, if the shit kept piling up. Didn't take too hard a look to see the cracks running through the man, but he was back up on his feet, willing to try and move on. He respected that.  
  
So Daryl would take a chance. Right or wrong, no matter, he wouldn't look back and regret it. Wasn't the Dixon way to worry 'bout tomorrow like a pussy.  
  
  
[ _Trust your instinct to the end, though you can render no reason. - Ralph Waldo Emerson_ ]  
  
The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill; basically OP asked for anything with a focus on Rick and Daryl.
> 
> This was inspired by two short scenes from the S03E05 preview, which my brain decided to interpret as Rick being catatonic from the recent emotional trauma and Daryl not going on a supply run for the baby, but leaving for good.


End file.
